Niquë
by only.a.small.fish
Summary: Thranduil isn't exactly a snow person. Unfortunately for him, Bard is.


"I hardly think it's dignified. A king should not be out of doors in weather such as this."

"It's just a little bit of snow."

"I said no, Bard."

"Please?"

Bard smiled hopefully at the king, his mittened hands clasped behind his back. Thranduil tskd loudly and dropped his chin heavily onto his palm, leaning forward in the casual loveseat located in a small public room near his chambers. With his legs crossed, his back was arched forward and his elbow was pressing into the soft flesh of his thigh, a very different posture from the one he usually wore in the company of his subjects. He glared at the bowman's evident pout but sighed eventually and leaned back, reclining on the soft grey cushions of the loveseat.

"Alright, you win," he grumbled, although with a small smile pulling at his lips. "You know I can't say no to that face."

Bard's pout instantly morphed into a wide smile and he stepped forwards eagerly, grabbing one of Thranduil's elegant, thin hands and attempting to pull him up. However, Thranduil did not budge.

"Calm yourself," he said sternly. "I'm not going anywhere without the proper attire. Do you want me to freeze bowman?" he asked, gesturing to the thin, silvery clothing he wore. Bard's smirked and he brought Thranduil's hand to his lips, placing a soft, genteel kiss to the backs of his lily-white fingers.

"Never, my love," he said quietly, teasing Thranduil's skin with the hair from his beard. The king melted at his touch, but grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forwards, connecting their lips.

"It's rather unfair," he murmured, kissing Bard gently, "That you should be so lovely." Bard grinned and pulled off his mitten, running his now naked fingers through Thranduil's long tresses.

"Says the beautiful elf king," he replied. "Compared to whom I am but a peasant."

Thranduil chuckled. "Perhaps I should hold peasants in higher status then, if they all look like you." He closed his eyes as Bard rubbed his rough, bearded cheek against his own smooth one.

"Oh, will you two stop it?" an irritated voice interjected. They pulled away from each other immediately, turning their heads to the interrupting sound.

Thranduil's only son, Legolas, stood in an archway that led to another hall, his arms full of rolls of parchment and a look of annoyance on his fair features. Thranduil relaxed upon seeing who it was, but Bard remained as tense as ever.

"Do you have objections against whom I choose as my lover, Legolas?" Thranduil asked haughtily. Legolas scrunched up his face a little and stepped into the room, moving to place the rolls of parchment onto a low table by the fireplace.

"No, but I wish you wouldn't do that in public," he said irritably. "It's embarrassing."

"In case you've forgotten, I am king of this realm, I may do what I please, where I please," Thranduil replied, sweeping hair over his shoulder snootily. "If I wished to, I could undress Bard right here and make love to him for all to see."

Both Bard and Legolas turned very red, but Legolas' complexion turned to green very quickly.

"Please tell me you won't," he said, his voice a mixture of disgust and fear of seeing his father doing anything without his clothes on. Even thinking about it was sickening, not to mention poor Bard…

"Oh, I would," Thranduil said, eyeing his son with amusement.

"Thranduil..." Bard hissed, patting his arm in alarm, trying in vain to make him stop talking.

"Anyone could walk by and see you!" Legolas exclaimed, pointing to the multiple doorways which were all very open.

"If it makes you feel any better Legolas, I won't," Thranduil said. The other two beings in the room deflated in relief, but Thranduil wasn't finished.

"Because then everyone would be trying to get a hold of my precious Bard after seeing him in such a lovely state. We can't be having that, now can we meleth?" he asked innocently, turning to Bard who had, if possible, blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"I can't believe this." Legolas said. "I'm leaving! I'm done!" he cried, throwing his arms up into the air and walking out briskly, holding them aloft in the air like two thin trees. Thranduil let out a laugh, throwing his head backwards.

"I love bothering him like that. It's really great fun," he chuckled. However, Bard was not laughing.

"Thranduil! That was incredibly degrading!" he cried, giving the king a pleading look. "Please do not speak of me in such a way."

Thranduil's mirthful expression changed to one of sincerity in a blink.

"I'm sorry my love, I won't do it again," he said apologetically. Bard was hesitant, but eventually gave him a small, reluctant smile.

"Thank you," he said. "You are forgiven. Now, what about going outside?"

Thranduil groaned and heaved himself up from the loveseat. "Ugh, I'll summon my valet, give me a moment." He pulled a small bell from within the folds of his robes and rang it sharply three times. After a few moments, a young, wispy-looking elf appeared in one of the archways leading to other corridors.

"You called me, my lord?" he said in a voice that was far lower than what one would expect from such a small person.

"Yes," Thranduil said, tucking the bell away again. "Please ready my cloak and some warmer garments in my chambers. We shall be there shortly." The elf studied the king's robes for a moment, assessing which 'warmer' things he would retrieve. Then he nodded and bowed briefly.

"Yes, your majesty," he said, standing up straight again. "May I ask what these are for, sir?"

"I'm going out Thalion, just to tour the gardens," Thranduil replied casually, waving his hand. Thalion bowed again.

"Very good, my lord. I shall get them straight away," he said dutifully. He rose, nodded respectfully to Bard and disappeared down one of the corridors again.

"How old is Thalion?" Bard inquired curiously once they were alone again. Thranduil took his hand and began walking in the same direction as Thalion.

"Thalion is only slightly older than Legolas," Thranduil responded, walking with slow, measured steps. "Many think he is too young to be a suitable valet for me, but I have faith in his abilities which have thus far proven to be adequate."

They walked along in silence, hands intertwined and thoughts in different place. The palace was a quiet place at this hour; too early for drinking and too late for lunch. Other than the two of them and the occasional guard, the corridors and rooms of the vast kingdom were largely empty. Thranduil explained that most civilians inside the walls tended to nap around this time, either that or they engaged in quiet, solitary activities in the various common chambers of the palace. Especially since it was nearly the winter solstice, most woodland elves tended to stay indoors, preferring the calming warmth of the hearth over the descending cold of the winter season.

"Legolas is...quite the character," Bard said cautiously after a while. Thranduil laughed lightly.

"He is, isn't he? Quite sensitive," he commented. Bard smiled, looking at his lover's fair visage.

"He bares the same features as his father," he noted. "Perhaps a little more feminine, but the resemblance is striking."

"You may be quick to connect our faces, but in person he is very much like his mother. I see so much of her in him, it pains me sometimes," Thranduil said sadly. "The same heartfelt determination, gentle kindness and the soft spot for mortals." He stopped suddenly and turned to look at Bard thoughtfully.

"Although, he may be starting to rub off on me," he said with a smile, tightening his grip around the man's fingers intertwined with his own.

It wasn't long before they were exiting the palace, Thranduil wrapped in a long cloak made of white wool. Done up with a red clasp at his throat, he looked as though he was a large white bird floating alongside Bard in his dirty brown coat and boots. The king had chosen to leave his crown inside so his long silver hair floated freely through the frigid air.

"How can you enjoy this?" he demanded, clutching his cloak about him as Bard joyfully kicked snow into the air. Thranduil recoiled as some of the cold powder rained down on him.

"You need to stop thinking about how cold it is and start acknowledging how beautiful it is."

Thranduil peered over the edge of his cloak, eyeing the cold white substance at his feet. He nudged a little bit of it with the toe of his boot. He seemed very much like an overgrown child. Bard lifted his hand to his face to stifle the chuckle rising in his throat. Standing a little ways away from Thranduil, he watched his lover mess around with the snow, a thin pillar of white with tiny pink tips of his ears poking through the long hair framing his pale face.

"I don't like snow..." Thranduil muttered, shedding his royal authority and acting rather like a pouting elfling. Bard sniggered. Thranduil frowned and jutted out his lip, whipping his head around so that Bard escaped his vision. The mortal saw this as a priceless opportunity and, more than willing to take it up, began to take silent, careful steps toward the elf.

"I still have not forgiven you for embarrassing me earlier," Bard said with a grin, approaching Thranduil from behind. The elf king looked around for him, unbeknownst to the looming threat.

"But you said-AUG!" He let out a high pitched cry as he was pushed unceremoniously into the snow, landing on his side and toppling over onto his bottom.

"BARD!"

"I was lying," Bard laughed.

Thranduil glared up at him from where he was splayed across the snow, sitting up very quickly. His face was red with embarrassment and fury as he seethed at the mortal cackling with laughter above him.

"Y-you should have seen your face!" Bard wailed, clutching his sides, the corners of his eyes beginning to water.

"I'm extremely tempted to have you banished," Thranduil sneered. Bard chuckled, lowering himself to the ground. He shuffled forwards a little on his knees, then dropped onto all fours, crawling through the snow until he was on top of Thranduil.

"Ah, but you won't," he said, grinning, as he looked down at Thranduil's face that was flushed with cold, and maybe something more.

He brought his face down and kissed the elf, ravishing his mouth openly. Thranduil gripped the tattered form of his scarf, pulling him ever closer as his mouth was invaded by the man's hot tongue. Thranduil suddenly pulled his mouth away from Bard's and in a flurry of sudden movement, had flipped the bowman onto his back. The king grinned impishly as he loomed over the mortal he had taken by surprise, now straddling his hips.

"Oh really?" he mused, arching one thick eyebrow suggestively. Bard smirked, reaching up to pull Thranduil down again, but he didn't get very far. At that exact moment, Thranduil scooped up a generous handful of snow and smothered it mercilessly into the unsuspecting face below him.

"AUG!" Bard exclaimed, spitting snow and slush out of his face frantically. He sat up in a haze to discover Thranduil clutching his sides, his ribs cracking with laughter.

"That's cheating!" Bard protested, shoving Thranduil off him harshly. Still laughing, the king fell backwards and landed on his bottom with a ploof, spraying snow about him. He was struggling to stand again but only managed to get halfway there before Bard swooped behind him, tugged brutally on the edge of his cloak and sent him flying back into the snow. Thranduil screeched and nearly did a somersault, getting thoroughly trapped in his robes, all which were now covered in mud and snow.

"I'll have your head on a stake by the end of this!" he roared, finally finding his feet and throwing tangled hair out of his face, now alive with a malicious grin. Bard squeaked in spite of himself and pranced away, spinning about like a ballerina. Unfortunately for him, one particular pirouette sent him slamming into the ground where he slid a few feet, screaming. He finally ended up stopping right in front of the crazed elf king. Thranduil tried to pounce on him, but even with the disadvantage of being on the ground, Bard was quicker.

"AHA!" he cried, leaping atop of Thranduil and pounding snow and stray twigs into his face. Thranduil flailed his arms about in defense, but one wayward flap flung a sharp thump to the side of Bard's head, sending him rocketing sideways.

"I'm sorry!" Thranduil exclaimed hastily. He prepared for a returning blow, but it never came. Apart from his heavy breathing, the air was silent.

He sat up immediately, worry and shock flashing behind his eyes as he spotted his beloved. Bard lay motionless on his side, his face covered by a curtain of knotted hair. Thranduil slid his legs out from under Bard's and quickly darted to his side.

"Bard?" he asked cautiously. "Bard, are you alright?" He reached forward to move the the man's hair, concern etched deep into the fair features of his face, but before he could do more than move his hand, his vision was obscured by a cold, white mass.

"Got you!" Bard trilled happily. He clapped his wet, frigid hands together, quite childishly pleased with himself. His joyful triumph was cut short as he was pulled into a tight embrace.

"I thought I'd actually hurt you," Thranduil said breathlessly, engulfing the smaller of the two in his long arms. Bard's expression softened and he reached up to wrap his own arms around the elf's thin back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing Thranduil's back comfortingly. He sat in his lover's embrace for a few silent moments, feeling the wetness of the ground seeping into his trousers, but then he realized that Thranduil was crying softly.

"Thranduil!" he cried out in alarm, pulling himself away and clasping the king' face in his cold hands. "My love, why are you crying?!"

Thranduil sniffled and attempted to wipe his eyes and hide his face, but Bard held his cheeks fast and urged him to look upwards. They locked eyes, soft grey meeting steely blue in an instant. Bard stroked Thranduil's cheek gently.

"Meleth...why are you crying?" he asked again, this time more softly. Thranduil blinked slowly, ashamed of himself, but spoke anyway with a quiver in his voice.

"I've lost...so many people…" he began, breathing deeply to try and calm himself. "Everyone I loved...I lost them. You and Legolas are the only things I have left…"

Bard stared at the distraught elf as memories and regrets resurfaced in his mind, each one evident and bold on his vulnerable face.

"I don't think I could bear it if I lost one of you too," Thranduil said with a desperate exhale of breath and before he could breathe in again, Bard had pulled him close.

"I am not going anywhere, my love," he cooed, kissing Thranduil softly on the top of his head. "I am going to stay here and hold you, forever and always."

Thranduil smiled tearfully in gratitude and nuzzled his face closer into Bard's broad, melting into his lover's warm embrace.

"Just to tour the gardens, huh?" he quoted, looking up at Bard with amusement. "I think we may have wrecked them."

A little ways off, watching from an arched window, prince Legolas let out a very loud, very exaggerated sigh. It ended up being of a much higher pitch than he intended, but he was to exasperated to really care.

"I can't believe those two. Honestly!"


End file.
